


Safe

by Rugsrat



Series: Outpost Nova [1]
Category: Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Alzheimer's Disease, Backstory, Gen, Iceland, LARPing, Post-Apocalypse, The apocalypse is not a nice place to live
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-04
Updated: 2017-07-04
Packaged: 2018-11-23 02:35:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11393586
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rugsrat/pseuds/Rugsrat
Summary: Shortly after The Collapse, Ariane Gauthier is trying to find somewhere to hunker down to keep her sick grandmother safe.





	Safe

“Where are we?” 

“Safe, Amma. We’re somewhere safe.” 

Everyday, almost without fail, the same question. Ari looked out the window of the tiny house they were in. She peered carefully from behind the ragged, dirty curtain without touching it. She had seen a couple zombies passing through the night before, and while they were dumb, unusual motion would still alert them. 

So far, so good. Ari put a small scoop of stove pellets on the fire, enough to keep it going for an hour or so while she was out, but not enough to create noticeable smoke, especially with the ashy fog still blowing everywhere. There was an old chicken roaming around. And she was determined to find it before the zombies did.

“Amma, you need to stay here for a bit. I’m going to get us some dinner.”

“ _ Hvar er Nadja mín _ ?”

“Amma… I… mom is in Canada. She’s fine. I’m sure.”

That was likely a lie, and it tore at her gut. But she had no way to know for sure. Her phone had died weeks ago.

“ _ Mais… _ ”

“Amma… I know it’s hard to remember, but you need to try, ok?” Ari said, slipping her tool belt around her waist. “Nadja is your daughter. She’s in Montreal, with Phillipe.”

“Your father.”

“Right. My father.”

“You’re my Ari.”

Ari let out a breath she didn’t know she had been holding. 

“Yes. I’m your Ari. And you’re my Amma.”

“Are you going to fix Marthen’s car for me? I can’t drive it, but maybe you could fix it for me for Janus? He wanted to buy it from me.” 

Ariane clenched her jaw to stop herself from snapping about how much she hated that damned car. But it didn’t matter anyway. That car was currently crushed by debris from the house. And possibly covered by lava. But at least Amma wasn’t arguing about how Nadja was her first girlfriend’s name.

That was going to be an awkward conversation to have with her mother, if she was still alive. It would serve her right, though.

“I’m going to get us some dinner, Amma. So you just stay here. I’ll be back soon.”

“Ah!  _ Oui. obtenir un peu de lait, s'il vous plaît _ ”

“ _ Bien sûr, Amma. _ ”

Once outside, Ari heaved the largest rock she could in front of the door, so that the metal storm door couldn’t open on its own. Not good for keeping anyone out, but hopefully enough to keep Amma from wandering off while she was away. No telling the horrible shit she would get into out there on her own.

She gripped her crowbar, and looked around. The place seemed deserted. For now.

Ari crept her way around the abandoned neighborhood, the ash in the air burning her lungs. And cringed when her foot caught a heap of rocks on the side of a destroyed home that went tumbling over into a metal bucket. She immediately crouched behind the house and looked about. No one. This time.

She stayed crouched behind the house for a solid minute before moving again.

Muruholt was fairly close to a small field. The chicken was probably there, if anywhere. Looking ahead of her with every step, Ari ducked between two houses, behind a pile of trash bags, and looked over the field, barren and covered with ash.

And then she heard the screaming.

Her blood ran cold, and she turned to look. An older woman she didn’t know, probably in her fifties from what she could make out in the haze, was running down Breiðamýri. Hot on her tail was a man, tall and slender, but in a way that made her think he was built wrong. He was gaining on the woman. And it looked like he was carrying an axe.

 She gripped the crowbar tightly, and didn’t move.

 He jumped on the running woman, what had to have been an inhuman distance, unless this man was an Olympian. Probably even then, it would have been a feat. One swipe from the axe, and the woman stopped moving. Ari clamped a hand over her mouth to keep from vomiting as he picked the woman up, and slung her over his shoulder, and started walking back the way he’d come, like she didn’t weigh a thing.

Ariane could just make out the black lines crawling up his bare torso from this distance as a breeze parted the ash clouds. What the hell was that? She added him to the list of things she was going to avoid from now on.

She rushed back to the house, and pulled her grandmother into the windowless, tiny closet that they slept in. The chicken forgotten in the wilderness

“Amma, I’m sorry, but we need to go on a trip. I’m going to pack a bag, and then we’ll need to go, ok?”

“ _ Hvert erum við að fara? _ ”

Ari shook her head, unsure what her grandmother was saying, but she had an idea.

“Safe, Amma, we’re going somewhere safe.”

* * *

The water was lapping quietly against the side of the boat as Ari rowed. Her arms ached, but she refused to stop. Amma was sleeping on the floor, wrapped in all the blankets Ariane had brought with them. Her stomach growled. The small amount of jerky and pickled shark she had salvaged from the house they had fled was so tempting. But her grandmother needed to eat too. So Ari ignored her stomach and her arms and sank the oars into the black, frigid, ocean water.

Then, a light appeared as she rounded a turn, coming from a ways inland. It looked like a flashlight sweeping around on the beach. Ari stowed her oars as quietly as possible, and crouched down. The light danced along the beach, and then back the way it had come. Back and forth. Back and forth. 

A patrol. 

She watched as long as possible, and used one oar, removed from its yoke on the side of her boat, to keep her boat still. After about an hour, by Ari’s guess, the flashlight was replaced by another one. This one also swept along the beach. But more slowly, almost lackadaisical. 

And then it stopped. Ari rowed quietly away while the light faced away. She filed away that spot in her mind, as it bared further investigation. 

But for now, she needed to find a place to rest.

* * *

It was days later. Ari had found a root cellar that she and her Amma had been staying in. It was frigid, but it had been well maintained, and so they had some food for the time being. But she had been hearing something moving around at random hours, so looking for firewood or more food was a hazardous proposition.

It was… growing well into October, as best Ari could figure. The snow would be starting soon, especially with the remnants of volcanic ash in the atmosphere. She needed to find somewhere warm to hole up for a time. Amma was getting worse. She spoke in smattering of English, French, but mostly Icelandic now, so Ari had a hard time communicating. There had been several times where she woke up to her Amma trying to break the lock on the door that Ari had installed with the few screws she had scrounged up. 

And on this terrifying morning when Ari woke, she found her Amma holding a knife in her hand, looking at her.

“Amma. Put the knife down, please.”

_ “Hvað hefur þú gert við dóttur mína?”  _

“I don't know what you’re saying… Amma, Amma  _ ç’est moi _ !  _ Ç’est _ Ariane! Please,  _ S'il vous plaît, _ drop the knife.”

She watched as the fingers tightened on the handle of the knife, and her Amma’s jaw set, but there was so much confusion in her face.

“I know it's hard, Amma, but I need you try to remember. The volcanos, they erupted. We had to leave. Do you remember the smoke?”

“Smoke… yes… of course I do…” Suddenly, a moment of clarity. “I was fourteen, and  _ Eyjafjallajökull _ suddenly erupted. We were so scared…” As her Amma started thinking about her youth, she seemed to forget the knife she had taken, and Ari softly removed it from her hands. The rest of the story was in Icelandic, and so Ari had no idea how it ended. 

She released her breath, and started cutting up carrots.

* * *

Some more days later, and they were almost out of fresh food. And a storm was on the horizon. Ari decided it was time to brave outside. Maybe bring back more blankets, or find a house that had made it. Or more food.

Hopefully more food.

So she waited until midday, when things were actually at their quietest, and left the cellar, locking it behind her.

And she went back to the beach.

As she got close to the bluffs, she hunkered down against the chill, and watched for signs of the patrol. She saw them after at time, wearing tired-looking military uniforms. Military? Probably American and Canadian. She prayed for Canadian, and watched a bit longer.

The man on the beach had a gun, but didn't seem eager to us it. And she didn't see any sign of the black lines crawling up the body like she had the other man who had killed that woman.

She took a deep breath, and decided to take the plunge.

“Hello!” She said, bringing herself into view, hands up with palms out. “Are you, I don't know, friendly, I guess?”

The gun was aimed right at her, and her blood started pounding in her ears. 

“Who’re you?” he snapped back, both hands gripping the rifle. His jacket had an American flag. Good enough.

“I’m Ariane. My grandmother and I are holed up a bit from here… I was wondering if you maybe knew of a safe play to stay?”

“C’mere… slowly.”

Ari did so, sliding her feet along the sand and keeping her hands over her head. He looked at her carefully, searching her face and neck, and then pulled her shirt aside some while still pointing the gun at her face. 

For all the cars she’d chopped, she’d never been held at gunpoint before. It was not a good feeling.

“You been bit, poked, or looked at funny since The Collapse?”

“No! Just ran like hell. I saw a man with an axe kill someone… but he was across the field from me.”

The man backed up after briefly frisking her toolbelt, taking the knife that just earlier her grandmother had pointed at her.

“Good.” He radioed… someone, a string of code words rattled so fast Ari didn't catch them “Get your grandma. Meet me here in three hours.”

She nodded.

“Can I get the knife back?”

“In three hours.”

Unarmed and pissed, she didn't argue, and instead ran back to her hiding place.

* * *

Ari hoped she had timed it right, not having a watch or a working phone, but she came back, with two packs full of canned goods, her crowbar, their blankets, and Amma.

The soldier was there, this time with a couple other people, both armed to the teeth. One was a tall woman with her hair pulled back and a severe expression. Ari would have thought her pretty except for how cold her eyes were.

The other young man was short, stocky, and was almost smiling. He also looked like he was fifteen. Both were dressed in military camouflage, with American flags on their shoulders.

“You came.” The original soldier said, “Good.” And he pointed the gun at Amma, who was currently looking around in bewilderment.

The woman walked forward, a pistol drawn, and Ari bristled, but didn't stop her.

“Amma, we need to let them make sure you aren't hurt.” She spoke in english, and hoped that today Amma was lucid enough to understand her.

No such luck. Her grandmother pushed the soldier's hand away, and started angrily speaking soldiers in Icelandic. All three trained their weapons on her. Ari slowly stepped between them. So that all three weapons were pointed straight at her chest instead of her Grandmother’s. 

“I'm sorry, she has alzheimers. She’s fine. Just confused.”

“You sure it's Alzheimers?” The woman asked, her hand shifting slightly on the grip of her pistol.

“Yes. I was taking care of her before bringing her back to my parents in Canada.”

Her grandmother tried to step around Ari, and she reached a hand backwards to hold her. All three soldiers flipped their safeties off.

“Amma, please. Calm down.”

“Ariane…” The rest was garbled mess of words mumbled as her eyes glazed over a little. But she stopped trying to walk away. The teenager was trembling. She raised her hand again, showing she was unarmed.

The woman stepped forward again, and re-holstered her weapon.

“Help me.” She said to Ari, who nodded, and directed her grandmother by gripping her shoulders. The woman checked her eyes, skin, and teeth, using a tongue-depressor, not coming in direct contact herself.

When she was satisfied, the woman nodded to the original soldier, who spoke into the radio receiver on his shoulder. 

The reply Ari heard over the air was pretty clear.

“Refugee one cleared for entry. Refugee two denied.”

“Denied! You’re denying me?” She asked, and could feel the color draining from her face.

“Not you.” The man said, and Ari could see he was actually looking remorseful, and not quite able to look at her directly. “Your grandma. She’s too unstable, the resources needed to keep her from being a security breach would be too high.”

“She calms down when it's quiet. It's just too crazy out here. If you just take us to… where ever you’d take us, you’ll see!” Her breathing started to pick up. Her heartbeat was pounding in her ears again, maybe even more now than before.

“Please. I don't care what it takes, put me to work. I'm a mechanic. A damn good one. I'll pull enough weight for both of us. You can't just leave her here to die!”

Amma was sifting through sand on the frigid beach, looking for shells.

“Our hands are tied. Chief Eiríksson…”

“Let me talk to him, please!” Her pitch was rising, and Ari knew she shouldn't be yelling this loudly, no telling what could be around. The teenager still had his gun raised. He pointed it at her again, hands trembling more. The other two soldiers shook their heads.

“I can't just leave her here…” The tears welled in her eyes. 

“No one is forcing you to come.” The woman said, voice matching her eyes for icy intensity.

The tears started falling freely.

“Please. Please, take her. I'll stay out if you can only take one, she needs to be protected.”

The first soldier stepped forward, and reached into his pocket, drawing the knife he had taken from Ari earlier that day.

“You’ll need this, then.” He pushed the handle into her hand, and backed away, the three soldiers leaving Ari dumbfounded in the barren wilderness of Reykjavik.

A few minutes of crying later, and she was being embraced by her Amma. She almost fell into the woman’s arms, and a soothing, familiar hand stroked her hair.

“Come on, Ariane. Let’s get you out of the cold. It's not safe out here.”

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of an ongoing series of short works detailing life moments of a LARP character that I play, as a means of getting into her head.


End file.
